


An Archangels Salvation

by Speightbrigade



Series: Warriors of Heaven [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Archangels, Gabriel - Freeform, Multi, Supernatural AU: Gabriel Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-16
Updated: 2013-08-16
Packaged: 2017-12-23 15:27:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/928112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Speightbrigade/pseuds/Speightbrigade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a dying Gabriel stumbles into a chapel in a small corner of Georgia, he wasn't quite expecting to be saved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Archangels Salvation

It was raining outside the small chapel, situated in a small corner of Georgia, in a small town mostly populated by god fearing citizens, a place he’d once tormented for the fun of their reactions; it’d given them more of a reason to fear Heaven.

He stepped through the double doors of the pure white chapel, drenched to the bone in a red plaid shirt, his trusty brown jacket long since left to a homeless person by the roadside; he had no use for it now. 

He could see them, the light from a brief strike of lighting shone through from behind him, casting the shadow of 6 once magnificent wings across the floor, now deteriorating, he could see them in that short flash, feathers falling in clumps to the floor, invisible to the human eye. 

There was something oddly poetic, about a dying Archangel, seeking solace in a small chapel in the middle of nowhere, he had nowhere to go, and no-one to turn to however this small sanctuary he’d found held just enough warmth to calm his fluctuating grace. 

He’d faked his immediate death at his brothers’ hands easily enough, but the blade had done enough, he couldn’t heal himself, he didn’t even have the energy to try. That last act of trickery to escape had drained him, his grace now freely leaking from his wound, now soaked with blood he didn’t need. 

The once great Archangel Gabriel, the messenger of God, was dying, in the house of his Father; some would call it karma for his trickery and cowardice, others poetic justice, but he only saw it as a fate long time coming. His steps heavy and laboured as he made his way towards the bleach white cross at the end of the isle; flickering candles lit both sides for the sins of the church patrons. 

He loosely flicked a wrist out to the side; the unlit candles now alight, carrying his past sins in their light. He calmly knelt onto a neatly placed hassock, before the white cross shuddering a dying breath. 

He thought about praying, he thought that maybe, if he prayed now… his father would listen, but then he realised, nobody was listening, his father was gone; he’d left them to die like dogs. And even if there were someone listening, it was most likely to be Raphael or one of the underlings that couldn’t and wouldn’t do anything to help him. 

“You’re probably watching, aren’t you, Father” he spoke bitterly, his words almost drowned by the clap of thunder which rattled the rooftop. “Well you can forget it, I’m not praying…” he scowled down to the loose red carpet the Hassock resided upon. He took a shuddering breath, he could feel himself growing weaker, his resolution crumbling “but… if I did” he started, pausing to take a breath “would you listen?” he lifted his head to the ceiling, the windows clattered with the force of the winds outside but nothing else really happened. “Figures...you’re really a crap dad you know that right?” he scoffed “could… you could solve this… all of this… but you won’t… will you…” his voice but a whisper as he pitched to the side, crumpling in a heap on the floor before the white cross. 

His vision had begun to cloud when he heard it, the slight sound of unoiled hinges, a door opening; he didn’t bother to lift his head. He was beyond help from a mortal, he’d die, and the human entering the room wouldn’t quite realize what had died before their eyes. 

“My-my, that’s quite a few candles lit” the voice was feminine, it held a slight European tinge to it, he was reminded briefly of Balthazar and his love for his European vessels. He still didn’t lift his head. She’d walk around from the stand and see him any moment, he was sure she’d scream.   
Footsteps echoed down the stone paved steps as heeled shoes met the cold floor they stopped, a choked gasp, but no scream. She knelt beside him milliseconds after; he hadn’t even heard her move. “Gabriel…” she whispered, shifting her small hands to rest on invisible wings, he jolted, visibly shaken by this woman’s knowledge. He lifted his head, a strenuous task, to meet her hazel eyes. “Oh Gabriel what have you done now…” she whispered, loosely carding her fingers through his rain soaked hair. He coughed out a bitter laugh, he wasn’t strong enough to sense who she was, but he felt oddly safe as she cushioned his head on her skirted thigh. He felt calm… serene… a pure and powerful Grace had wrapped itself around his rapidly dimming one, it felt peaceful an Angel had found him. 

“I can’t… who…” he couldn’t even pull the words from his throat; it felt dry and hoarse, like he’d screamed for millennia without end.

“Shh” she soothed “Father must have led you here…” her voice just a whisper, her fingers calmed his nerves, if he were to die, he supposed here on this unknown angel’s lap would be a nice place to go, closing his eyes he sought relaxation, finding it quickly. 

“Why…?” he questioned quietly, she laughed softly and he couldn’t help but smile, the laugh reminded him of someone, he wasn’t quite sure who in his death induced haze but it was a nice memory. 

“Perhaps to punish us both for leaving… or maybe to give forgiveness, who knows… he’s an odd fellow” he reopened his eyes to stare up into hers, trying to place the grace that held his so tenderly, It was warm, loving, he knew it well he just couldn’t place it. “Sending you to the one angel that could possibly pull your grace back…” she whispered, gently smoothing her hand down his rough stubble covered jaw, one thumb coming to rub a tear from his cheek that he hadn’t known had escaped. 

“Azzie… is it… it can’t be…” he whispered, it made sense now, the warmth, the tender care, why he’d been called to this place in particular… he could have gone anywhere, anywhere in the universe, but this lonely little chapel in Georgia had called to him… maybe his Father really was looking out for them.   
Lightning flashed outside once more, shining through the windows just enough to give him a brief glance at the outlined masses that were her wings and in that moment he was sure… those wings could only belong to one Angel: Azrael, the Archangel of Death and Retribution. He’d always wondered if she’d followed after his disappearance, it seemed she had. 

“You were the only one that could ever get away with pet names, Gabriel” she smiled, leaning down to place a soft kiss to his temple, he could practically feel himself growing stronger as he watched the outlines of her wings extend out at both sides. He couldn’t tell its colour in the light but her hair tickled his face as she leant down, a jingle from his side brought his attention to a belt made of silver crosses around her waist, things he hadn’t picked up at first. Now however, he was stronger, he could sense her, he knew exactly who she was as she poured his grace back into his body bit by bit, as she searched the heavens with her power for his own. 

_‘Call it forgiveness… Son’_ Gabriel heard the whisper in his mind but he thought nothing of seeking it out, a smile crossed his face… he was being rewarded, an action will always have a consequence, and his action to save the boys had brought upon this consequence, a happy consequence. 

“’Morningstar’ is out of his cage an on his soapbox…”

“So I heard, I’ve been paying attention to my sweet little spanner, and what about you… are you going to run back to the stars once I’m through with you?” she whispered, still caressing his slowly drying hair with nimble fingers. He honestly thought about the question for a moment, life as a Pagan God was pretty much over now the pagans knew who he was… the Winchesters believed him to be dead, Lucifer believed him to be dead, everyone thought he was dead… he could just leave, get out of the way, carve out a new corner for himself, the Winchesters would probably attempt to kick his ass if they found him again though… staying with Azrael did have its perks. 

“Do you want me to?” he asked, looking up at her with a small grin. Lightning struck again, highlighting just the edges of her young face, this must have been her true vessel; he could feel her power at full tilt, such a young mortal, barely into womanhood probably early twenties at most. 

“Two Archangels might be a bit odd in one little church don’t you think, brother?” she teased softly, her powerful feathers beating down a soothing current of air. 

“Ooh _brother_ , I haven’t heard call me that since the Ark…” his grin took on a sly edge, her wings flexed in embarrassment but her smile betrayed nothing, angels wings were always the tell-tale. It’s why many chose to hide them, Azrael not having the luxury of being able to, could not. 

She didn’t pause in her soothing caresses, he wouldn’t admit it but he was glad for that, the last woman to touch him may have been all hands but she’d been pretty uncaring about how rough she used them. Azrael was always so gentle, her vessels always had small hands, small and talented hands. Trust her true vessel to be the same. 

“Do they know who you are in here?” he finally asked after a few moments of silence, he could feel his strength doubling on itself as he spoke. 

“The priest is aware, he allows me to take confessions of sin from our visitors… he believes if they’re told to an Archangel, they can be absolved… It’s a nice thought I suppose” she ran her free hand over his shirt, it dried instantaneously and he felt so much better for it. 

“Mmm you’re not really the one for that, are you?” he smiled, closing his eyes feeling more comfort and more ease than he had in centuries, millennia even longer. “Although you do make a wonderful nurse… perhaps an outfit change is in order” he grinned, opening his eyes to see the reaction, he’d have done it too if not for the hardened glare he got for the suggestion, as soothing as she was, he knew better than to piss off the Archangel of Death, she could strip his life so quickly at the moment he’d be left with whiplash. 

Suddenly feeling sombre he relaxed into her hold again with a sigh, his eyelids fluttering closed once more as his wound slowly knitted together, the skin healing slower than usual from the fatal stab “Azzie… I really can’t say how happy I am that I ran into you…” he finally whispered. 

“You don’t need to, I can tell” she responded, a sliver of amusement woven throughout her tone, he realized that her grace still caressed his just as her hands were doing. He was suddenly frustrated, frustrated that she hadn’t returned the sentiment, did no-one really care that he’d been gone for so long? She hadn’t even asked where he’d been! He’d have supposed that Azrael of all angels would be worried about him… 

“Can you just act li-” 

“Gabriel… my sweet, mischievous little Gabriel… calm yourself” as if reading his mind, which she probably could due to such close proximity of Grace she soothed his doubts “I left Heaven to find you, Gabriel. It just wasn’t the same without you… but when I couldn’t find you and attempted to return things had taken turns for the worst, Michael had decided upon the Apocalypse… I couldn’t find you nor could I return to what havoc awaited in Heaven and so I settled here until judgement day come, the priest… adopted me I believe the term is” she explained, gently smoothing her fingers through his honey hair once more. “I entered here as you did just now… from the rain, tired, cold and without hope, he wrapped me in blankets and gave me cocoa…” she let out a soft breath laugh “a good man…” 

“Where is he now?” he’d probably thank the man if he could meet him, anyone who took care of his brethren deserved thanks, especially if they’d taken care of one of the more dangerous by reputation ones like Azrael without complaint. 

“Asleep, it’s 3:23am Gabriel…” she smiled in amusement, she didn’t blame him, Angels rarely indulged in sleep, and they rarely paid attention to time, what with being able to zip across time zones in an instant it was really a pointless habit, keeping track. 

Gabriel felt the exact moment when the wound finally healed, when his grace collectively gathered back within his vessel safe and sound, he could feel his strength at its peak, he could feel his power at his fingertips he could go anywhere, everywhere he could fly to the highest point on Earth and back in milliseconds. But really, as he watched the outline of her deadly feathers, lower and pool out across the floor in exhaustion, he could only think of staying where he was… her grace wrapped around his and her fingers loosely running through his hair, he was calm here… safe here… 

“I think I’ll stay.” Her smile lit up.

**Author's Note:**

> This work is the first prequel to a much longer fic 'Warriors of Heaven'


End file.
